After My Alpha Named His Omega Luna

The guards' hands were rough against my arms as they dragged me from the Grand Hall. Harrison stormed ahead, his ceremonial robes billowing behind him like the wings of an avenging angel—if angels could be so cruel.

"Take her to the burial grounds," he snarled over his shoulder. "Perhaps a visit to dear old daddy will help her see reason."

I struggled against the guards' grip. "Harrison, this is sacred ground. Even you can't—"

"Can't what?" He whirled to face me, his eyes flashing dangerously. "Can't remind you of your place? Your father was nothing but a stepping stone, Emma. Just like you."

The forest path blurred as tears stung my eyes. My father's pendant seemed to grow heavier against my chest, as if sensing the desecration to come.

We emerged into the clearing where generations of pack leaders had been laid to rest. Moonlight filtered through the canopy, casting silver shadows across the stone markers. My father's grave stood at the center—a simple yet elegant marker of black granite, adorned with the Silver Moon Pack's emblem.

"Beautiful night for a resurrection, isn't it?" Harrison's voice dripped with malice as he circled the grave. "I wonder what your father would think of his precious daughter now."

Mazie appeared from the shadows, her crimson gown a garish stain against the night. She moved to stand beside Harrison, her hand possessively gripping his arm.

"Sign the transfer deed," Harrison demanded, thrusting a document toward me. "Or I'll have these guards dig up your father's bones and scatter them in Rogue territory."

My breath caught. "You wouldn't dare."

"Wouldn't I?" His smile was all teeth. "You've seen how far I've come. What's one more broken promise?"

I stared at the document, my mind racing. Without the territory rights, the pack would be nothing—rogues without a home. But to sign would be to surrender everything my father built.

"You have until dawn," Harrison said, his Alpha tone pressing down on me like a physical weight.

Mazie stepped forward, her eyes gleaming with spite. "Such a shame about these old graves. Accidents happen so easily out here."

She moved toward my father's marker, her fingers trailing over the stone with false reverence. My wolf stirred within me, sensing danger.

"What are you doing?" I whispered.

"Just admiring the craftsmanship," she replied, reaching for the decorative urn that sat atop the grave—a small vessel containing a portion of my father's ashes that we'd kept separate from his burial.

"Don't touch that!" I lunged forward, but the guards held me back.

Mazie's lips curved into a cruel smile. "Oops."

With deliberate slowness, she tipped the urn. Time seemed to slow as it fell, my father's ashes spilling across the dirt like gray snow.

"No!" The word tore from my throat as I watched Mazie's foot come down on the fallen urn. The porcelain shattered with a sound like breaking glass.

Something inside me snapped.

Heat flooded my veins, burning away the pain of rejection. My vision sharpened, the world suddenly crystal-clear in silver-white light. Power surged through me—not the borrowed strength of a Luna-to-be, but something older, more primal.

"Emma?" Harrison's voice held a note of uncertainty.

I looked down to see my hands glowing with an intense silver light. When I raised my eyes, Mazie dropped to her knees, gasping for air.

"Your aura," she choked out. "It's—"

"Alpha," I whispered, feeling the truth of it settle into my bones.

Harrison stumbled backward, his face pale. "This isn't possible. You're not—"

"I am." The words came out as a growl, my voice carrying a weight it never had before. "And you just desecrated an Alpha's grave."

The pressure of my aura expanded outward, forcing Harrison to his knees beside Mazie. For the first time in ten years, I saw fear in his eyes.

"This isn't over," I promised, my voice deadly quiet. "You've just declared war on the wrong Hamilton."

I turned and walked away, leaving them trembling in the dirt beside my father's desecrated grave.

---

The hunting cabin smelled of pine and memory. My father had built it as a retreat—a place to think, to plan. Now it served as my war room.

I pulled the hidden panel from the floorboards, revealing the cache I'd been assembling for years. Financial ledgers, surveillance logs, recordings—insurance I'd never thought I'd need.

"Ten years," I murmured, running my fingers over the stack of evidence. "Ten years of building your empire."

The first ledger opened to reveal Harrison's personal accounts—funds diverted from pack projects to his private coffers. Embezzlement on a scale that would make even the most corrupt Alpha blush.

"Did you really think I wouldn't notice?" I traced the numbers with my fingertip, each entry a nail in Harrison's coffin.

The surveillance logs were worse—recordings of meetings with Rogue leaders, payments exchanged in dark alleys, promises of territory in exchange for loyalty.

"He's been planning this for years," I realized, the scope of his betrayal finally clear.

I reached for my father's tactical journal, its worn pages filled with his handwritten notes. As I opened it, a single photograph fell out—Harrison shaking hands with a known Rogue Alpha.

My father had known. And he'd left me the tools to destroy him.

I spread the evidence across the rough wooden table, my mind already formulating the attack. Harrison thought he'd humiliated me today.

He had no idea what was coming.